Cold Death by Mary Stone (best e reader for android TXT) 📕

the sound so unlike her usual smug tone that Ellie’s heart twisted. The other woman reached for the screen as if to stroke the pale cheek, but she jerked her hand back before making contact.

“Hey, are you o—”

Quick as Dr. Jekyll, Katarina whirled on Ellie, her amber eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare ask me if I’m okay because I’m not! Nowhere close! What good is all this?” She flung her hand in the direction of the screen. “So now we know for sure he has my daughter, so what? We’re nowhere closer to finding her than we were before we sat on our asses watching TV like a couple of stoned teenagers.”

Breath quickening at the surprise attack, Ellie reminded herself that not even an hour ago, she’d worried that they’d been wasting time too. Kingsley had Katarina’s daughter. The woman had every right to be upset. “This is all just part of the process of how we hunt people down. Sometimes it takes time, but we’ll get there.”

“Time? We don’t have any time!” Katarina jumped to her feet, her teeth bared beneath her snarling upper lip.

Ellie stood too, jamming her fists on her hips. She understood all too well that time was a luxury they didn’t have, but she was tracking the leads the best she could. “Do you have a better idea? If so, let’s hear it. Either put up or shut up.”

Katarina’s face contorted, and her right hand balled into a fist. Ellie braced for impact, but the other woman pivoted first and clenched her fingers around the chair instead. “Enough with this two steps behind bullshit and letting him call all the shots. The only way we’re going to catch Kingsley is if we quit giving chase and figure out how to get ahead of him. We need to dig into his bag of tricks and draw him out.”

“Good in theory, but how do we do it?”

Katarina stared at the image of Bethany’s profile a long moment before turning to Ellie. “Do you still have that cell phone Kingsley sent?”

A pit opened up in Ellie’s gut. “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“Tough shit. Do you want to find your mother or not?” Ellie gave a reluctant nod, and Katarina’s eyes hardened. “That’s what I thought. Get me the phone, and I’ll find Kingsley.”

29

The two female guests tucked into the chairs behind the cheap, scarred dining table were like night and day in both mannerisms and attitude. The duality pleased me so much that when I reemerged from the kitchen with a plate, I paused to appreciate the intriguing picture they made.

Emaciated and wan in the chair closest to me was Bethany. Her hypervigilant twitches reminded me of a frightened mouse. All she needed was a set of whiskers and a long, skinny tail, and she’d make the perfect pet. Her wary eyes tracked me from beneath the curtain of blonde hair that obscured her face, the strands lank and stringy from lack of a recent shampooing.

After those initial few snafus when she’d been determined to fight me, her training was progressing nicely. Those refrigerator sessions had proven invaluable in my quest to bend her to my will. Not too much longer before her weaker, childish will snapped like a dry twig beneath my foot, leaving her poised to do my bidding.

My gaze shifted to the dining room’s other occupant. I couldn’t quite repress a sneer. Ellie’s mother sat upright in the chair, her posture more suited to tea with the royal family than the predicament she was in. Still so high and mighty, staring chilly disdain down her nose at me at every opportunity, as if her hands and feet weren’t tied to the chair, and that wasn’t a gag preventing her from speaking. Her haughty attitude couldn’t conceal the fresh grease streaks that marred the once elegant peach blazer or the coral lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

The regal tilt of her chin, the patronizing stare, the exquisite posture, all traits that reminded me of Letitia. Except Helen Kline couldn’t hold a candle to Letitia Wiggins because the woman seated at my table achieved power through no actions of her own but as a byproduct of her husband’s and family’s wealth. The far bigger sin, though, was in how she’d squandered her advantages.

No wielding, no manipulating, no bending others to her will. No, Ellie’s mother flitted from charity to charity, wrapped up in the erroneous belief that such fundraising efforts for the downtrodden would fill her vapid life with meaning.

Letitia never made such repugnant, wasteful choices or took her power for granted. No, my cunning headmistress wielded hers like a weapon. Had devoted herself to teaching the lessons of power and control to the soft, spoiled adolescents at Far Ridge.

I was proof of that, and due to my former headmistress’s meticulous training, Helen Kline would soon learn her money was useless here.

The image of that proud woman bound in such a similar fashion to Ellie when she’d graced my warehouse all those years ago sent delight feathering across my skin.

Like mother, like daughter.

I stepped between my two reluctant guests and set the plate down in front of Bethany. When she spotted the thin sandwich cut into identical halves, her chalky tongue poked out and dabbed at cracked lips. Her body quivered, but in testimony to the progress I’d already made, she didn’t fall on the offering like a rabid beast.

“Good girl. You’ve learned how much Papa dislikes it when you eat before asking. Kids these days can be so entitled, wouldn’t you agree, Mrs. Kline?”

The snobby old hag refused to even acknowledge that she’d heard me. I was tempted to grab my pliers and teach her that such insolence wouldn’t be tolerated, but no, too soon. The stronger they were, the more I enjoyed stripping their illusion of strength from them, bit by delectable bit.

Today we’d start with a less physical lesson.

“My dearest Bethany, there are far too many people out there